Season's Beatings
by Dr. Nusakan
Summary: Christmas is approaching once again, and Dib is going to make sure Zim doesn't cause a catastrophe like last year. But this time around the Irken has a different idea.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, people! This is my second Invader Zim story, and to tell the truth, I have no idea what to make of it. It's a Christmas story, at any rate, and I hope you like it. :)

**Season's Beatings**

Chapter One

Dib sat at his desk, outlining his latest plan for spying on Zim, all the while keeping a close eye on his arch-rival a few seats over. The alien was sitting and patiently waiting for Ms. Bitters to arrive and start the lecture of the day on this overcast morning in mid-December. The topic was to be continued from yesterday's lesson – "Doom in America's Educational System". Like that was anything new. Nobody even tried to feign interest in the lessons in this class anymore, unless you counted Zim, who was always on the lookout for any signs of weakness from Earth. Dib sighed and continued to scribble in his notebook, every few seconds turning his head, alert for any shady conduct or activity from Zim. It was the established routine.

Across the room Zim, bored, twirled his pencil between his gloved fingers, half-listening to the drone of his classmates babbling during these precious few minutes before the school day officially began, and also hoping GIR wasn't causing any worthless havoc back at the base. Nothing too explosive, anyway, Zim hoped. Most likely he was making a mess involving some filthy Earthen food that he seemed to be so fond of.

Zim took a fleeting look at the calendar that hung in the front of the room by the door. He'd been on this abhorrent planet for over a year and as far as he could see, progress to conquering Earth was coming along slowly but surely. So much information he'd collected – wait. The green boy snapped his head back toward the calendar. It was _December_. That could only mean one thing. Zim could have moaned as memories of last December and its Earthen traditions, as well as the scheme he'd concocted that had gone awry, filled his memory. It was back.

"CHRISTMAS!" Zim screeched aloud, and shuddered.

He should have known. During his walks to and from skool he'd seen the warning signs, the reminders – people were beginning to hang wreaths on their doors, wind garland around porch railings; some already had started putting up strands of lights, though of course they weren't lit up in the daytime. Lately Zim was so engrossed in thinking up fresh plans for Earth conquest that he had only regarded the humans' decorations absentmindedly, knowing he'd seen them sometime before. Now he realized just when that time was.

His classmates slowly turned their heads towards him, except for the Earth-stink Dib, who cracked a grin after a moment of being startled at the abrupt outburst. It was about time the extraterrestrial realized that the humans' favorite holiday was coming up. The holiday that Zim had had a disastrous experience with the previous year. The boy with the large round-framed glasses watched as Zim peered around and registered the bored looks the students were giving him.

Dib could not resist the chance to antagonize his nemesis a little. "I suppose you can't contain your excitement for Christmas any longer. Am I right, _Zim_?" he asked with a chuckle of malice.

"Quiet, you with the bloated head," Zim spat. "Of…of _course_ I am looking forward to the exceptionally _cheerful_ –" (here he winced) "and _good-spirited_ –" (another wince) holiday of _Christmas_." He folded his hands on the desk, inwardly seething that he was forced to pretend to enjoy an occasion when these pigs spent all their time buying useless and often fragile objects for one another, walking around with goofy grins full of merriment slapped on their faces, and stuffing themselves with holiday feasts. It was just disgusting.

"Jeez, Dib," spoke up Sara, leaning forward to make herself heard clearly. "So what if Zim loves Christmas more than you? He's a normal kid, after all."

"_Normal?" _Dib threw his hands in the air. "Last year he tried to brainwash the community, if not the world, by dictating everyone in a technologically-advanced Santa suit! He almost took over the world!" he yelled. Over in his seat, Zim was pretending to examine the wood of his desk.

"I don't remember that," said Zita, obviously confused. The other children looked at each other, all muttering, "Me neither," or "What is he talking about?" or "That didn't happen. Crazy Dib."

"Foolish, foolish boy," Zim jeered. Dib, immensely frustrated, pointed a finger in his direction. "Well, you can't try that same funny business again, Zim! And no matter what you try to do to this planet, I'll just keep stopping you as many times as it takes!"

"Be quiet, Dib!" someone shouted, and tossed a paper wad at him. Due to the unfortunate fate that always seemed to befall him, it didn't miss its mark, and hit the back of his head.

Dib sent an angry leer in Zim's direction. _I'm watching you_, his look plainly said. The alien smiled smugly as their teacher entered the room and prepared to further rot her students' brains with another unconventional lecture.

-----

When school ended for the day, with yet another doom-filled lesson through, Zim was the first to break through the skool's front doors and outside, where he cast a worried glance at the sky before scurrying away toward home as fast as possible. Dib watched, bewildered, as he came out amid the crowd of children onto the front steps. Gaz stood from her spot on the bottom step and started walking as her brother hurried to catch up.

"Did you see that?" Dib panted. "He's up to something. Something he has to run home for."

"Maybe he just wanted to get home before the rain starts," replied Gaz as she played her game, hoping Dib would accept that idea and shut up. "Now don't bug me. I'm at a crucial point of this game right now."

"Rain?" Dib squinted upwards. The sky was still full of ashy gray clouds, and as he spoke, several of them spontaneously burst. Dib grumbled and pulled up his coat collar around his head. Gaz pulled out an umbrella from nowhere, trying her best to hold it up while handling the GameSlave 2. But what emerged from the clouds was not rain.

"Hey, it's snowing." Dib looked up again, after not feeling the expected raindrops hitting him. Instead, he saw snowflakes beginning to drift downward, landing on his glasses lenses and instantly melting, small trails of water being left behind. "Would you look at that!" He lowered his collar. Gaz took down the umbrella, and then frowned in annoyance as the snow came in contact with her game screen. "Yeah. Stupid snow."

"Aw, come on, Gaz," Dib pressed. "It's kind of…uplifting, isn't it?" _Especially when you know it can cause Zim grief, though not as much as rain would,_ he thought.

"No."

Another thought came to Dib. "Hey, wanna help me get out the tree this year?"

Gaz was starting to have an eye spasm. Her mouth was turning up into a scowl. "Dib, if you do not close your mouth –"

"Okay, okay!" Dib held up his hands in signaling for peace, then set about wiping the flakes from his glasses and thinking. Once again it was that time of year that required him to go into the attic and drag down the artificial pine tree that had been in his family for eons. Every year Dib was the one to get it out, since no one else remembered, and Dib felt it was necessary for the season. If it was bad enough being seen as a big-headed paranormal-obsessive freak, imagine how awful it would be to be all that without so much as a Christmas tree to grace the spot seen through the living room window. It was just…_wrong_. Also, there was a lone box of colored electric stringed lights up there, half of which had burned-out bulbs, along with the old stockings for he and his sister – the ones they'd made in kindergarten.

The only participation from Gaz concerning any of this came when she'd tack her stocking to the wall, since Dib had long ago been forbidden, by herself, to lay a finger on it. Other than that, she didn't seem to care much for any yuletide festivity, because according to her, there was "nothing special" about it. As long as she got something on her list she couldn't afford herself from Dib or her dad, she had no reason to fuss. And about Dad…well, some years he was around for the holiday, and some years he wasn't. It all depended on how much work he had; whatever big projects were in progress, and blah blah blah. He would get something each for Dib and Gaz that they asked for, at least, sending the packages through the mail if he couldn't give them in person.

So in short, the whole season could get a bit lonely and dull for our favorite paranormal investigator. But he made a point not to turn into his sister and shove off the entire thing. After all, he didn't mind seeing the city and its citizens go out of the way for one another at least once a year. It was nice.

"Hey Gaz," Dib spoke up as they neared their house, forgetting that he was supposed to follow her orders of being silent, "What was the last thing that any of us really _did_ for Christmas? I mean, besides the presents and the tree and whatnot."

Gaz wiped the snowflakes away carefully from the GameSlave 2's screen while it was in pause mode. "I dunno," she said grumpily, and then her brow creased in thought. "Wait, there was the time when we went to that light show in the park. We begged Dad until he took us. Remember now, you dope?"

Dib blinked. "Oh yeah. A little bit. I was what, five?" he shrugged. It was a faint memory that he just now could recall – a memory of giant trees and bushes all decorated with lights that blinked in time to Christmas tunes played on a stereo system they were hooked up to. It seemed so long ago. How did Gaz remember those good old times before he could, anyway?

As they stepped into the living room, shaking the light snow dusting from their coats, Dib picked up the mail from the floor where it always landed after falling through the mail slot and shuffled through it. No Christmas cards yet, it seemed. He slapped the pile down on the coffee table and trudged upstairs.

-----

Zim had just reached his odd-looking Earth home, only to be greeted by the sight of GIR, that hopeless sidekick of his, running around the front yard in his dog disguise trying to catch snowflakes in his mouth. "GIR!" Zim shouted, trying to shield his face from the snowfall with his hands. "Get inside. You're not supposed to _enjoy_ the snow."

"Awww, but Master!" the robot protested. "It's good to eat! Remember last year? I ate so much I almost – "

"Yes, yes, I know. Now go inside. I think I hear one of your ridiculous Earth shows starting," Zim told him. Never mind that GIR hadn't even left the television on; that was beside the point. With a squeal GIR, forgetting the snow, ran to the house, whipped open the door and scampered inside, giggling all the way. Zim quickly adjusted the "I Love Earth" flag in the yard, blowing off the snow that had settled on it. He went inside after his robot and slammed the door.

GIR was now sitting on the couch staring intently at a commercial for hairspray that blared from the screen of the noisemaking electric box. As long as he was occupied with T.V., he would stay out of trouble and out of Zim's antennae (more or less), when he wasn't needed. Zim walked into the kitchen, taking off and discarding of his disguise on the way, tossing the wig and contact lenses on a side table. He did a double-take at the kitchen counter, where rested a red tin he had never seen before, a bit of gray smoke rising in wisps from under the sides of the lid. A faint burning smell lingered in the air, and now he noticed the dough plastered on the table and walls. As if on cue, GIR's voice could be heard calling from the other room, "I saved some cookies for ya, Master! They're goooood." An insane bout of high-pitched laughing followed.

Zim frowned. There was no way he was touching this latest dessert à la GIR. Who knew what ingredients the very, very amateur cook and baker had used this time around? Wallpaper? Grass? Or had he stuck to the original recipe? There was no visible way to tell. Not that Zim cared much for human food. "GIR," he shouted into the living room, "I want the kitchen cleaned and rid of your…_cookies_…by the time I come back up from the lab. Hear me?" Without waiting around for a response he marched over and flushed himself down the toilet-elevator to the underground base.

Okay. I know it's not very exciting yet, but it's going to get better. I hope. We'll have to see what my mind conjures up. Anyway, reviews are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Well, so far I'm really not sure where this is going, and I'm making up a lot as I go along. Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter!

Chapter Two

Dib had waited until Gaz went to eat dinner in the kitchen before he lugged the tree downstairs and anchored it in an unfurnished corner in its stand. He'd wound a string of lights around it and had hung up his old stocking on the wall next to it using string and masking tape. He sat on the couch now, surveying his work and also wondering if anything was going on over at Zim's place that he should be worrying about. Well, it was better to be safe than sorry, and if Zim did anything drastic, Dib knew he would be very sorry. He was just about to go fetch his camera, laptop, and the other equipment he used when trying to infiltrate Zim's base, when Gaz marched back into the room carrying a soda can in one hand. She eyed the tree and then Dib.

"What did you do to it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dib. Nothing was wrong with it as far as he could see.

"It's all lopsided," replied Gaz crossly.

"It is not," Dib protested.

"It is," said Gaz, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa and reaching for the T.V. remote. "It'll be hard to ignore since you did such a terrible job." She turned on the television, and a barrage of sound and color filled the room. Dib watched her flip channels – past an afternoon talk show, golfing, their father's show, a tacky holiday movie…she settled on a commercial for Bloaty's that was advertising some new kind of cheese topping that would be available in a few days. Dib could see that his sister was already making plans in her head to be there on that day. Nothing mattered more to her than junk food and games anymore.

_Sad_, Dib thought he climbed the stairs. He shrugged it off as he booted up his computer and started the hacking procedure into Zim's security system (I don't know how that would work, exactly; let's just say he was able to send a signal from his computer to Zim's main computer). It was by no means easy, but it was necessary in that it saved him time fighting off Zim's security-camera gnomes and such. Leaning back in the desk chair, Dib stared blankly off into space in thought as the procedure carried out its task.

-----

Zim had spent the past few hours trying to think of a way to take advantage of the humans' fascination with Christmas without making the same errors that had found their way into last year's scheme. He'd thought of stealing all the peoples' decorations and gifts, but apparently research showed that it had been attempted by an entity known as the "Grinch" and the great theft had failed to discourage the citizens. "Christmas spirit" could not be destroyed by physical means, unfortunately. Last year had taught him that.

Zim used the elevator to go back up to the house level. He needed to clear his head of the sweetly sickening Christmas he'd been pondering over once more. He needed a distraction.

It wasn't hard to find one in the kitchen. The room was in the same state he'd left it in, except that the cookie tin was missing from its previous spot on the counter. Zim frowned grudgingly and stalked into the living room, only to find the tin container sitting on the sofa, with one of GIR's pink rubber piggies next to it. The T.V. was, surprisingly, off. The whole scene could have been a little ominous, almost, if not for a muffled scraping sound coming from the tin. Zim cautiously approached it and reached toward the lid.

He was not prepared for the _clang_ that sounded when the lid flew off and GIR popped out in a shower of crumbs. Zim took a startled step back.

"Yaaay!" GIR cheered as he jumped onto Zim's head. "Did I scare ya, Master? Were ya surprised?"

"No," Zim lied between clenched teeth as he reached up to pluck GIR from his head, though truthfully he _was_ surprised, and annoyed as well. "Go in the kitchen and clean up the mess, GIR."

"But I did clean up," GIR replied as he slid to the floor.

"You did not. There's a sticky substance all over the place," his master told him.

GIR seemed to perk up. "There is?" He ran into the kitchen and began to eat the dough off the walls. Zim watched him from the doorway in disgust. "From now on, no more baking," he said, though it was more than likely that GIR would do it anyway.

"But I was going to make a pie!"

"Forget it," said the alien tiredly.

"Why don't you like Christmas, Master? Everybody's so happy! And everybody eats lotsa good food, too!" GIR walked to another part of the room looking for more loose dough.

"The food on Irk was better than this. And Christmas is a silly, pointless celebration," Zim declared.

"You liked it last year. Remember all the cool stuff we did?" GIR reminded him.

"I only did that as part of the plan. I didn't _enjoy_ any of that cheery, good-hearted nonsense!" Zim shouted.

"Are we gonna do another plan this year?" asked GIR, wiping his small mouth.

"Maybe, maybe," answered Zim. The SIR unit stared at him, then suddenly shrieked, "I like mooses!" and skipped back into the living room. Zim was ready to deflate from frustration and misery, when the house computer's voice rang out from the walls. "Uh…sir?"

"What is it, Computer?"

"I think there's an intruder on the premises."

"What do you mean you _think_?" exclaimed Zim in alarm. "You're not supposed to think! You're supposed to _know_!"

"Well, sorry! But he messed with the security system. There's only one camera left working!"

"_He?"_

"Do you really need me to tell you who?" asked the computer.

Zim narrowed his eyes. "Dib."

Dib was indeed the intruder, and at the moment he was outside hanging above the front door by a rope with one end attached to one of the windowsills of one of the windows above with a grappling hook, and the other end fastened to his belt (he had to do this the old-fashioned way – his ninja attire was currently lost in his house somewhere). It had stopped snowing, but was getting dark now, making it a bit hard to see his surroundings. He knew that with the defenses down, Zim had two choices: he could run to the control center and try to reactivate everything, or he could come out and confront his human adversary. Either way, Dib would get inside, he knew. For the moment, he waited.

A few seconds passed before the door below him was flung open and Zim came marching out onto the front step. The alien scanned the yard, then shouted, "I know you're here, _Dib_! What's this, another futile attempt at a break-in?"

_No_, Dib thought from his place above the door. _It _is _a break-in._ He watched as Zim came further outside, looking around warily for his unseen nemesis. _That's right, alien. Step away from the door…_

At that moment the rope Dib was hanging from decided to unwind. Dib glanced upward and happened to notice the rough threads breaking apart on one point of the rope. All at once it snapped. With a throaty gasp Dib felt himself falling straight down, and landed on the now-empty front stoop, tumbling hard onto his side. The fragment of rope hung swaying from the window above.

Dib looked up frantically, thoroughly expecting to see Zim towering above him, or running to him from whatever part of the yard he had wandered over to, shouting in triumph. But Zim wasn't in view, and Dib could only hear his voice off from somewhere nearby, apparently still taunting him. Then he realized that Zim had gone around to the side of the house searching for him. Dib leapt to his feet, ignoring the aches in his left arm and leg. He snuck inside the front door and was running through the living room when he bumped into GIR, who was just coming out of the kitchen with a Brainfreezy in one small metal hand.

Crap. Dib had almost forgotten about Zim's little robot companion.

GIR looked up at Dib and cocked his head, then smiled at him. "Hi, Master's friend with the big head!" he greeted.

"Oh, um, hi," Dib mumbled, trying to get around GIR and into the kitchen. But GIR stepped with him, blocking his path no matter which way he tried to enter.

"Aren't you going to let me by?" asked Dib, not bothering to conceal his impatience. He was wasting time here!

GIR giggled and slurped on his frozen treat.

"Look," said Dib, thinking quickly. "I'll give you a present if you let me in."

"Really?" squealed GIR. "What is it?"

"It's –"

"What is it?"

"It's a –"

"What is it?" GIR hopped up and down in excitement.

"_Here!" _Dib screamed and thrust his hand down toward the android, holding out a ballpoint pen from his pocket.

"Ooooo," said GIR with interest, and took it in his free hand. Dib took the opportunity to slip past, where he made a break for the trash can entrance to a hidden lab below ground. Thank goodness for GIR's lack of brains. In seconds the boy was descending into the alien's base, hoping Zim wouldn't discover him too soon.

Dib walked out of the elevator when it stopped in one of Zim's workroom levels. Hopefully he could see if his rival was in the process of creating anything destructive that he could take away as evidence easily, or possibly damage something to buy the world time from whatever Zim wanted to unleash.

_Let's see, let's see…_Dib musedas he skimmed the room. His eyes were quickly drawn to an array of handheld weapons lying on a table – an assortment of ray guns, tasers, electric-shock sticks, etc. The biggest and most powerful-looking was an Irken-built missile launcher.

Dib carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hands, examining its craftsmanship and noting the alien symbol marked on the handle. Could he take this as proof of Zim's alien technology? Or would the world decide to just pass it off as some secret military tool or something of the kind? He had to try anyway, he decided. And if he wound up being not believed or humiliated again, he could always store it and study it and not let Zim take it back…and if Zim _did_ come to get it back, it could be used as a lure to get him out in the open somewhere…possibly without his disguise. All that he'd need was to devise a plan somehow…the gears were beginning to turn in Dib's head. He tucked the missile launcher under his coat, and, realizing the only exit was through the elevator up to the house level, wondered if he should hide down here for a while or try to get out now. After all, he wasn't sure if Zim was still outside or not. Well, either way, the security system was still down, and that would make things easier. Dib was still thinking about it when he heard a humming sound coming from the elevator itself. Zim was coming down.

Dib looked around in a panic, and then hid himself behind a group of pipes in a corner. He peered between two of them to watch Zim descending through the transparent tube on the elevator shaft. The Irken stepped out, and grumbling, suspiciously looked about the room before turning to a computer console to start re-programming the house's various defenses – the lawn gnomes, the equipped machines hidden inside walls and ceilings, the sensors set up around the base and the ridiculous excuse for a house above it.

_He's still here_, Zim was thinking. _I can sense it with my superior, amazing instincts. I have to repair the damage that horrible Dib-human caused as soon as possible._ "GIR!" Zim yelled.

A moment passed before the SIR unit poked its head out from a chute opening in the ceiling. "Yeeeees?" it drawled.

"GIR, I need you to keep watch around here for a while since the house's defenses are not working. Stay on the upper level and watch all the elevator platform exits; they're the only ways our intruder can leave," Zim instructed.

"We have an intruder?" GIR chirped. "Oh yeeaah…he gave me this!" The robot stuck out an arm with the hand that held Dib's pen, grinning.

"Well, wasn't that _nice_ of him," said Zim, eyeing the pen. "It's a shame that you're too easily amused, you know. I'll have to look into that matter. Anyway, GIR…GIR!" he barked.

GIR directed his gaze away from the pen and to Zim. "What?"

"Listen to my orders! Now go up, patrol the house and destroy the Dib with all the weaponry inside that head of yours if you see him trying to escape. Got it? I know you're capable of it!"

GIR saluted smartly with the arm he held the pen with, his eyes turning red for a few seconds. "Yes, my master," he said dutifully and disappeared up the chute.

Dib shifted his weight from one foot to the other in his hiding place. The missile launcher bumped against his side. He couldn't lose it, that was important. He could see Zim's computer screen blinking, and watched as the alien set about repairing the house's security. The only operational security right now was GIR, but what could he do, really? It was a bad idea to underestimate Zim, but _GIR _seemed to have a mind of its own. Dib's eyes moved to the elevator. Zim's back was turned. Dib clutched the weapon beneath his coat with one hand. _Okay. GO._

The human boy left the sanctuary behind the pipes, sticking close to the wall, ducking behind tables and appliances for added caution, trying not to make any sounds louder than the faint hum of machinery around him and the clicking of the keyboard when Zim typed. He was almost to the elevator now, and Zim was leaning in the high-backed desk chair, watching the screen. Dib took a deep breath through his nose, and jumped onto the platform that would take him upwards. All would have gone well if he hadn't dropped the missile launcher to the floor.

Zim spun around upon hearing the clatter of metal on metal and saw Dib grabbing up the object as he began to rise on the elevator. _"You!"_ shrieked Zim, leaping out of his chair. Dib wanted to punch himself for being so clumsy when he was so close to leaving unnoticed. He nonetheless waved at Zim, who was becoming smaller and smaller below him. Zim jumped in a rage, then hollered, "GIR! The Dib is coming up there!"

Upstairs the little robot was sitting on the living room floor playing with a stuffed pig and his new pen, facing the kitchen entrance. He could hear his master's voice, faintly, through the floor below, and he watched the trash can to see what was happening. It was big-head boy, Master's friend, Dib, who climbed out in a hurry. "Hiya!" GIR said. "Do you have a taco for me?"

Dib stepped onto the tiled floor, faced with a smiling robot with a pen sticking out of its mouth. "Um, no. No taco." He went to run around GIR, but once again GIR would not let him through the doorway. "C'mon, _please_!" Dib exclaimed. GIR laughed, enjoying this game he'd created of blocking the boy's path.

Dib was about to push the robot aside to force his way through, when the lid of the trash can burst open and Zim sprang out. "Good work, GIR," he said, assessing the situation. "I'd rather you'd just destroy him, but delaying him isn't bad either, I suppose. I can just do the rest of the job myself. In fact, it's more satisfying that way."

Dib took up the missile launcher he'd taken, holding it up and shakily pointing it at Zim. "I don't think so, space boy!" He pulled the trigger, as GIR let out a screech in the background. But no miniature missile was ejected as Dib had hoped. Instead a gush of a reddish substance came squirting out all over the place, some of it sticking to Zim.

"Eaaaggghhh!" Zim yelled at the top of his…uh, whatever he has in place of lungs. "What is this?! This is NOT what I loaded in that!"

"It's my taco sauce," GIR piped up.

"Your WHAT?" exclaimed Zim. GIR smiled.

"The jar it was in broke, so I put it in there." He pointed to the launcher Dib held before diving into a puddle of the meaty, spicy sauce on the floor. Dib wiped some of it off the end of the weapon with his finger and tasted it, then looked at Zim. "Your buddy's right."

"GIR!" Zim exploded. He didn't know if he should feel relieved that there were no missiles loaded after all, or angry that his fine creation had been turned into a storage container for a Mexican condiment. "Now I'll have to clean out and probably rebuild part of it," he sighed, putting a hand to his head in agony.

"No you're not," Dib told him. "I'm taking it with me, _Zim_." He began to back up quickly. "Studying it after I dismantle it might – ehhh!" He began to slip backward on the messy floor, and wind milled his arms frantically. As he fell ungracefully backwards, the launcher slipped from his hand, and Zim snatched it up. He had brought out the mechanical legs from his PAK and stood on the sauce-streaked floor with no danger of slipping. Despite the pain in his back and butt, Dib scrambled backwards, his clothes getting stained, and managed to stand, stumbling into the living room. Zim followed.

Dib hurriedly took out the camera he carried and flashed a picture of the alien, undisguised, advancing on the legs of the PAK with one of those legs raised and reaching toward him. Dib jumped aside at the last minute, and the leg meant to pierce him with its sharp end instead knocked the camera from his hand and sent it flying into a wall, where it cracked and fell to the carpet. _Gotta pick up another one-time use camera tomorrow_, thought Dib as he turned and ran out the door.

Zim retracted the spider-like PAK legs and stood on the doorstep, watching Dib run down the sidewalk. He'd gotten away, but at least he had no evidence – no Irken weapon, no camera. He'd had it easy this round because the defenses were down. Not that anyone would have taken the evidence seriously anyhow. Zim scowled as the stink-worm disappeared from view. He wasn't about to forget this.

Weird, eh? That idea with the taco sauce in the missile launcher came out of nowhere.


	3. Chapter 3

I think this chapter is the weirdest; at least, the first half of it is. Me and my crazy mind. :-p It was fun to write, though.

Chapter Three

Nobody said anything when Dib came home covered with taco sauce. He put his stained black coat in with the next load of laundry. Afterwards he went to his room to change his spattered pants and spend the evening doing homework and reading one of his paranormalists' magazines that had arrived in the mail a few days before, only coming downstairs for dinner before retreating into his bedroom again. Gaz was occupying the living room with her games and a pizza, and _Mysterious Mysteries_ had been canceled tonight for the showing of some Christmas movie for real little kids, so there was nothing else to do, really. By ten 'o clock, Dib was exhausted and bored enough to go to bed, where he fell asleep right away. The house fell quiet.

Some time later there was a faint _thump_ Dib thought he heard through his sleep. Slowly he came awake and opened his eyes, not sure if the noise had come from somewhere close by, or if it was a product of his mind. Everything was silent. He turned over onto his side and was just closing his eyes again when a muffled rustling sound came.

Dib sat up drowsily in bed and listened. The rustling hadn't ceased, and seemed to be coming from somewhere outside the room. Then there was a faint squeal and a shushing accompanying the noise. Suddenly feeling much more awake, and very suspicious as well, Dib nabbed his glasses from the bedside table, putting them on as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Padding across the room, he opened his door, cringing as it creaked a little on its hinges, and slipped toward the staircase.

He started downstairs, and upon reaching the bottom, stopped and peered around the landing. In the darkness he could make out the shape of someone moving busily in the corner of the living room. Dib could feel his heartbeat increasing.

_We're being robbed_, he thought wildly. _It's really happening. But why didn't our burglar alarm go off?_ It wasn't likely that anyone could disarm the alarm system so easily – it was advanced; Dib's father had upgraded it himself. Dib was wondering if he should try tackling the intruder, since the figure wasn't much bigger than he was, when he heard a high-pitched voice whisper, "Can we take some stuff from their fridge, too, Master?"

"No," hissed another voice. "Now stay quiet and take that end. Now, we're going to move toward the door."

Dib froze as realization dawned. _Zim! What does he think he's doing?!_

Dib ran into the living room, tripping and falling. He heard a gasp from Zim, but ignored it and got up again, feeling along the wall for the light switch and turning it on when his hand passed over it. The sudden blinding light lit up the scene: in the corner by the window Zim, in his disguise, and GIR, in his dog suit, stood, each holding onto an end of the fake pine tree Dib had put up earlier; Zim held the trunk and GIR had the topmost branches in his tiny but strong hands. The would-be thieves stared at Dib, and GIR then grinned and looked at Zim. "Now what do we do?"

"We leave," Zim replied after a second with a sinister smile.

"Wait a minute!" Dib exclaimed. "What the heck are you doing? What in the world do you want with the tree?"

"Well, _Dib_," answered Zim, edging toward the door, "I realize that you were the one who caused my base's defenses to go dysfunctional today."

"Yes," Dib agreed. "I did a pretty good job, didn't I?"

"You did. Where did you learn how, anyway?"

"Online tutorials."

"Is that so? I never knew…" Zim mused.

Dib interrupted him. "So this is your revenge? This is the best you could come up with?" It had to be a distraction. Something else _had_ to be going on.

Zim grinned at him. "I can't tell you how much I detest this _Christmas_ of yours. And it seems that you humans are not easily discouraged by much during this particular season. But if I can't destroy the _world's _Christmas adornments, at least I can take _yours_. I hate having to look down upon the awful things." He glanced around him. "You don't seem to have much, anyway. It just makes my job easier – and makes your home the least festive on the block."

_So this is it? He wants to take away the only symbol of Christmas in this house, huh?_ Dib thought, anger subconsciously rising. _The only thing that shows that my family isn't completely ignorant of it. They always just need reminding, whether they care for it or not. So _this_ is how Zim's trying to make me mad?_

"Drop it and go, Zim," Dib told him. "I've caught you, so there's no way you're getting away."

Zim shook his head in pity at the human's feeble attempts to talk him out of it. He looked toward GIR, who was picking plastic pine needles off the tree. "GIR, get us out of here!" he ordered.

"Okey-dokey!" GIR replied, and started up the jets in his feet while still clutching his end of the tree, while Zim continued to hang onto the trunk. Unfortunately GIR wasn't used to carrying large objects while flying, and was thrown terribly off balance. They made it a few yards into Dib's front yard after crashing loudly through the window before Zim's end of their cargo dragged them to the ground. The Irken stamped his foot; he _knew_ that bringing the Voot Cruiser and parking it in the shadows would have made transporting their load much easier. The original plan had been to simply walk back home with it where it could be destroyed with no one watching; it wasn't that far of a trip to Dib's and back. But Zim had forgotten to consider the Voot in his haste to get the show on the road.

"Okay, GIR," said Zim. "It looks like we're going to have to do the next best thing." He paused, seeing Dib coming out the front door and racing towards them. "Hang onto the tree," Zim continued. "Now RUN!"

Dib came running out front in time to see Zim and GIR take off down the sidewalk, carrying the tree between them. _His_ tree. It was a sight made unnaturally strange by the streetlamps casting a ghostly glow over the street. Now wearing a pair of snow boots and a dusty jacket that he'd pulled from the front closet over his pajamas, Dib took off after the figures fleeing down the street. Gosh, it was chilly out here. The middle of a December night was not the healthiest time to be running around outside, but who knew what Zim's true intentions were?

"Hey, Master," GIR said as he and Zim ran up ahead, "isn't our house the other way?"

Zim quickly looked over his shoulder. There was the Dib-human, pounding along after them, looking as upset but as determined as ever. Beyond him Zim could see the dark shapes of the familiar houses and parked cars, and he realized that GIR actually had a point. They were heading toward the inner city, rather than further back into the suburbs where their house was. Zim groaned. "Guess we'll have to take the long way around," he replied. "Turn right, GIR! No, GIR, the _other_ way!" he yelled as GIR tried to swerve left. Making the turn, the first city skyscrapers appeared before them.

Dib, still running some meters behind, watched as Zim and GIR rounded a corner of the block. The city? What was the big idea? Gritting his teeth, he tried to run faster.

Since it was so late, the streets were deserted save wandering hobos and street peddlers falling asleep next to buildings. A few 24-hour marts lit up the spaces between gloomy-looking closed shops and offices. Streetlights illuminated patches of snow that lay on sidewalks and curbs. As Zim and GIR ran, they leaped over a sleeping hobo. The man cracked his eyes open and sat up to stare after them just as Dib turned the corner in hot pursuit. He had the unluckiness to collide with the hobo just as he sat up and get thrown backward to the pavement.

After standing up and apologizing again and again to the irritated hobo, Dib took a deep breath and continued chasing Zim, who was now about half a block ahead, and Dib was almost sure he could hear him laughing. As he passed a closed grocery store he spotted a rotting apple lying by the door. Stopping for a split second to seize it, he looked forward and squinted at Zim up ahead. Hoping for some good luck, he hurled the fruit into the air toward his foe with a breathless shout of, "Heads up, Zim!"

Zim heard the battle cry and chanced a look behind him. Some small object was falling through the air down towards him in a graceful arc. He twitched, but whatever it was sailed right past him and hit the top of GIR's large green head instead. The disguised robot yelped and stumbled, causing the tree the brush up against his back, and his master stopped only when his front ran into the tree trunk and momentarily took the wind out of him.

GIR turned around, one "paw" touching the top of his head. "I think I have a dent in me!" He smiled stupidly and stuck out his dog tongue.

"Keep moving!" Zim instructed him. "You've gotten plenty of dents before!"

"I know!" GIR giggled as they set off once more. Zim looked behind him again and cursed to himself in Irken. The Dib was closer now, having begun to close the distance between them while they had briefly come to a stop. "You're not leaving me behind, Zim!" he cried out. "I'm taking that back, you thief!"

"Just try it!" Zim yelled, then looked forward and exclaimed, "Make another right here, GIR!"

Dib watched them zip around yet another corner as he came puffing up behind them. Feeling slightly confident, as he had gained on them a little during the apple escapade, he ran on, the rubber soles of the snow boots scraping on the cement as he made a sharp turn. However, there was a patch of ice up ahead he failed to notice until he had run right onto it. Moving in a not-so-elaborate slippery dance, it was quite a few seconds before his feet finally both left the ice and he fell onto his back.

Dib lay there in stunned soreness, wondering why Zim and his robot hadn't fallen here, before he sat up and used his arms to push himself off the ice. He certainly seemed to be falling down a lot lately. At least this wasn't messy like the taco sauce thing from before. He stood and, catching sight of Zim still on the run, started going after him again.

The extraterrestrial and his robot were slowing down a bit, and Zim wished more than ever that he was operating the Voot at this moment instead of panting as he ran through the city. "Hey!" said GIR from a few feet ahead. "Lookit this!" Abruptly he dropped the tree and walked up to a store window.

"GIR!" screamed Zim. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Lookin' at the piggy," came the simple reply. Zim, exasperated, stared through his contacts at the storefront. Visible by a faint light from the back, he could make out the shapes of small stuffed pigs in Santa hats sitting at the foot of a miniature lit-up Christmas tree, only too reminiscent of the tree they were stealing. GIR turned to Zim. "Buy me one, Master!"

"It's _closed_, GIR," Zim growled, walking over and grabbing him away from the display.

"Awww," GIR moaned, still looking at the piggies.

"Come on, let's keep going," Zim demanded.

"I don't wanna." GIR started pouting.

Zim didn't feel like reasoning with him right now. "You have rubber pigs at home, GIR," he said impatiently. "Think of the piggies at home. Think of the Scary Monkey, if you must! The sooner we get home, the sooner you can see them all again! Let's go!" he urged.

"I love the scary monkey," GIR said, his face lighting up. As Zim let go of him, he trotted over and took hold of his end of the tree, then set off rather quickly, surprising Zim, who hurried to keep pace with him. During this whole exchange Dib had been catching up considerably, and was not at all far behind when Zim and GIR started moving again. The bandits suddenly veered into the empty street at Zim's command. Dib followed, but as soon as his foot left the sidewalk a car practically flew past in front of him. Dib jumped backward in shock as a stream of steady traffic raced past. He narrowed his eyes at this dirty joke the drivers (and the author) seemed to be playing on him, as Zim and GIR alighted on the opposite side of the street.

The next half hour or so continued in this fashion – Dib chasing Zim, trying to slow him down and/or catch up to him, while Zim directed GIR on the route back to the house and tried to avoid any obstacles on the way. The dodged a couple of people leaving early for work, ran through raccoon-infested alleys, ran straight through a 7-11 from the front to the back door (GIR wanted to get an Icee but Zim wouldn't let him), and bumped into a tough street dog with a bad attitude who would have tried to fight GIR if a pile of snow from a roof overhead hadn't fallen on top of it.

With Dib temporarily out of sight, Zim noticed that he and GIR were nearing the train station. Zim was out of breath and desperately wanted to rest, so the two of them went around to the back of the ticket office and sat on a lone bench with the tree at their feet. GIR appeared to be in good shape; he couldn't feel the cold as much, being an android, and he still had a good amount of energy left, but sat down anyway with Zim.

"We're not staying long, GIR," Zim told him, adjusting his wig and wishing it provided more warmth to his head. "Okay," GIR responded. He lowered the head of his dog costume and began rummaging around in his hollow metal skull for a snack. He found some tuna and began chewing it contentedly.

Zim sat there and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, surveying the railroad tracks while GIR ate noisily beside him. It was still dark out, though not pitch-black anymore. In an hour or two the sun would rise. A flash suddenly appeared at the corner of Zim's eye – a flicker of orange further down the wall. He wasn't sure if he'd really seen it, but as he stared at the spot where it had been, it flared up again. Zim watched as a small fire was lit into existence.

Out of curiosity, he stood up, taking the tree trunk with one hand and GIR with the other (making sure GIR covered his head with the disguise first), and began to shuffle toward the fire. When he was close enough, he could see that next to it, sitting and leaning against the station wall, was a young homeless man. He had dirty black hair and sat curled up in an oversized green coat, and also wore gray sweatpants and tennis shoes without socks. Glancing up at Zim past the small jumping flames, he motioned with his head, since his hands were crammed in the coat pockets. "It's not much," he rasped out, now staring at the alien, "but you can sit for a while if you need to."

Zim stared back at the man. He'd seen homeless people on the street while passing, but had never spoken to any. He could feel the heat of the little fire, and GIR was already sitting with his small hands out toward the flames. What the point of that was, Zim didn't know, because it was not likely GIR could feel heat. Maybe he was just doing it because he had grown so used to Earthen behavior. Zim shivered as a winter breeze blew against his back. He would stop here for a few minutes, he decided.

"Sure," Zim said, and seated himself cross-legged on the ground next to his "dog", slightly leaning toward the embers. Surely Dib wouldn't think of searching for him here. Their neighborhood was further down the way, anyhow.

"That's a nice dog," the man said suddenly, bringing Zim out of his thought.

"Huh? Oh, yes. Yes he is." Zim smiled crookedly and gave GIR a pat on the head, hoping he was being convincing in his fondness. GIR smiled. Zim just hoped the robot wouldn't be dumb enough to open his mouth and say anything while they were here.

The man was now moving one hand around inside his pocket. "Here, give 'im this." He tossed something at Zim.

Zim looked at the object that had landed by his foot. It was a sugar cookie. He picked it up as the man said, "Someone gave me a bunch of them yesterday. I like that dog of yours. Ya think he'd like that as a treat?"

"Uhhh…I think he would." Zim held out the cookie to GIR, who took it and devoured it in a matter of seconds, then looked at the homeless man and cheerfully waved at him.

The man grinned at GIR, and then looked at Zim. "Good little companion ya got there. What's your name, kid?"

"ZIM!" a voice blared suddenly from behind where the Irken and the SIR unit sat. Zim turned to see the Dib charging toward him, looking worn-out but triumphant. "Ha! Big mistake you made choosing to stop!"

Zim leaped up and grabbed the tree. "Who said I was stopping?"

"What else are you doing?" asked Dib, slowing down.

"Ehhh…you know…" Zim's voice trailed off. Choosing to forget the topic, he exclaimed, "GIR! Come on; we're leaving! Help me out here!"

"Already?" GIR protested. "I wanna stay here with our new friend!"

Dib looked at the homeless man, who'd been watching the scene wordlessly. "Did you hear that?" the boy asked him. "That so called 'dog' just spoke! And look at this kid! He's _green_! You've been sitting here with an alien and his robot-in-disguise!"

"It's a skin condition," Zim said calmly, nodding at the man. "And my dog…er…I've been training him to speak like a human. I _am_ a human, you know," he added.

"Makes sense to me," the man shrugged.

Dib sighed. "Just give me the tree, Zim. We're both tired, and I'm beginning to think you don't know exactly what you're doing anyway."

"Silence! Of course Zim knows what he is doing!" Out of the side of his mouth he said, "GIR, hurry up! Your master commands you!"

"I don't think so," said Dib. He was now holding the end of the tree that GIR had been carrying before. "I've got this end and I'm not letting go," he informed Zim. He watched as the alien gave the tree a sharp tug, while stepping backward and sideways a little. The fake branches on one side were close enough to come in contact with the fire, and began to smoke as the artificial pine needles there were spread over with flames.

Dib's eyes widened. This wasn't good. He looked around for something to beat the flare out with. He thought of using the old jacket he wore, but to take it off he'd have to let go of the tree, which was something he would rather not risk. He pulled, trying to move it away from the miniature bonfire. However, Zim was still tugging on it and walking sideways. _Like a crab,_ Dib thought for a moment before he realized that the tree was now practically hanging full-length over the fire, like a turkey being roasted. He watched in horror as the fire consumed most of the tree, but still part of his brain would not let him let go.

"Ouch!" Zim suddenly yelled, and Dib felt the other end of their burden become heavier as it sank to the ground. Zim had let go of the tree and was blowing frantically on his hands, covered by gloves that were beginning to burn him. Dib began to drag the tree away from the fire, but then it suddenly started crackling in a burst of sparks. Dib's bare hands were beginning to get unbearably hot, and he jerked them away to plunge them into a patch of snow nearby. He looked back mournfully at the sorry sight. The plastic tree was melting and smoldering, the fire now blazing bigger thanks to this unintended fuel. Dib sighed in defeat and hung his head.

"Well," Zim's voice was carried over from the other side of the fire. "That turned out to be easier than the original plan. I'm such a genius I can hardly believe it." He began his diabolical laughter. "Sorry about that little _mistake_ I made there, Dib!"

The homeless man sat forward, eyes glowing in the light from the bright fire. "Now _that's_ a fine fire," he said, catching Dib's and Zim's attention, while GIR remained sitting on the ground. Zim paused in his gloating as the man looked at the two boys, who were both human as far as he was concerned. "Nice work there, boys."

"Yaaaaay!" GIR cheered. "Our friend is happy!"

Dib watched the wickedly pleased smile re-form on Zim's face. Then he looked at the man, who, accompanied by GIR, was basking in the light and heat the flames gave off. He was just like the other homeless people Dib would see every once in a while, but this one was smiling a little. Those guys never smiled. But this one seemed pleased, if only for right now, being warmed by the strongly-burning fire. Dib turned that thought over in his head for a while as his hands cooled down in the pile of snow. A homeless bum who didn't hate the rest of humanity at the moment; who'd _thanked_ them for the incident that had resulted in this cozy fire before them.

Zim was now staring at Dib, wondering why he wasn't throwing a fit over the loss of his family's Christmas tree. He cleared his throat. "Guess you'll have to spend your pathetic holiday without a Christmas tree, _Dib_."

Dib looked up at him slowly and smiled. "Oh, don't worry about _me_, Zim. I think this tree actually came to a good use tonight, believe it or not."

Zim screwed up his face. "Huh?"

"Besides," Dib went on, "I can always buy another."

"But – "

"I doubt you'd understand," said Dib. "but it's called _compassion_. I guess I'll be going home now." He stood up. "See you in school tomorrow, _Zim_." Giving a courteous smile and nod to the grateful man, he turned and began the trek home without bothering to look back at Zim's puzzled expression.

As he walked, Dib thought about what he'd have to say at home to explain to Gaz why the tree had disappeared. But it wouldn't make much difference. In his eyes, Zim's plan had backfired in what Dib saw to be a satisfying way. And maybe that was all the boy needed to know this Christmas to be happy.

Fin (?)

I'm not sure if I should make this the end or not, but I've been kind of stuck when I think about where it might go. Reviews/feedback, are, as always, welcomed and appreciated.


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